


True Love

by Littleshebear



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, steelponcho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littleshebear/pseuds/Littleshebear
Summary: During a very mundane day, Louis helps Hawthorne realise what the meaning of true love really is.





	True Love

Suraya had been lied to, this wasn’t how this was meant to happen. It was clear how this was meant to go, years of books and vids had made it cut and dried. When protagonists knew they were in love, it was obvious. The music swelled, usually after a dramatic action sequence where one half had saved the other’s life, and there would be a heartfelt confession. Possibly in the rain. Suraya had saved Zavala’s life for certain but it wasn’t raining and no confession had followed. Just as well, Suraya was fairly sure she didn’t love Zavala back then and she didn’t think he loved her either. Even if he had called her “Guardian,” at the time. What’s more, there hadn’t been any kissing. The big, dramatic, life saving moment was always followed up by a kiss, that was the rule; something unrealistic yet photogenic. That didn’t happen, she was far too busy deactivating the Cabal shield network, taking time out for a quick snog, however symbolic, would have been lunacy. They were both too practical for that. 

Still, she feels cheated. She hadn’t expected it to happen like this; lying on his couch in a baggy shirt and sweat-pants, her unwashed hair pulled up in a messy bun. She was reading clan rosters, he was reviewing after-action reports. He was seated upright on the couch, even when he’s relaxed he’s not one to slouch. Suraya, by contrast was draped across the couch, her legs resting across his lap. 

Louis had started chirping at them apropos of nothing. Before she could respond, Zavala had replied as though in conversation. 

“What’s that Louis?” He’d asked mildly. 

Louis squawked back at him. 

“Is that so?” Zavala replied. Suraya immediately stopped reading what was in front of her and listened to the ‘conversation.’ 

“Indeed,” Zavala intoned after Louis chittered and stretched out his wings. “And what did you say to that?” 

Louis gave a final chirp before fluffing up his feathers and settling back down on his perch. 

“Language, Louis, please,” Zavala warned, the tiniest of tiny, yet playful smiles dancing at his lips. “There are ladies present.”

“I’m not a lady,” Suraya responded after trying and failing to make headway with her reading. 

“He doesn’t know that,” Zavala said, looking away from his own reading and to her. 

“Oh, he knows,” she grinned, “He knows more than you’d expect.” She smiled across at Zavala, wondering if he could tell she was holding her breath, scared that if she breathed her heart might leap out of her and make a break for his. She wondered if he knew how his hand, drifting casually up and down her leg, made her giddy, terrified and relaxed all at once. Did he know how badly she wanted to articulate this contradiction to him, even though her vocabulary on the matter was likely more limited than Louis’? “He’s hungry,” she settled on, disentangling her from their casual embrace. “I’ll feed him.” 

“You’re hungry? That’s it?” Zavala asked Louis again, stretching his legs out in the absence of Suraya’s resting on him. “Why so dramatic?”

“Takes after his Mom,” Suraya chuckled as she made her way to the kitchen. She opened up the fridge and removed a recently defrosted chick in a ziplock bag. Louis recognised the sound and swooped through and alighted on the back of a kitchen chair. It was objectively gruesome, she knew. Nevertheless this staid, rule-abiding, crochet-loving, poetry obsessed man had welcomed a wild hawk into his home, cleared space in his freezer for dead baby chickens and made room in his life for a nomad with a criminal record. She fed Louis, reflecting on the thoughts racing through her mind. Maybe she  _ had _ been lied to. Maybe this really was what love is. Compromising. Being comfortable enough to not worry about appearances. Making bizarrely deadpan, yet endearing conversation with a beloved pet. They might get their dramatic kiss in the rain yet but for now, she was fairly certain it wasn’t necessary. This was love. She couldn’t bring herself to say it yet, but it was love. 

She turned back to the living room once her hungry falcon was sated and went to resume her original position on the couch before thinking better of it. She lay down the opposite way, her head in his lap. She picked up her tablet, a sop to the idea of working while he didn’t hesitate to trail his fingers through her hair and over her scalp. 

“Maybe I should take him out of the City,” she asked, “Let him stretch his wings. What do you think?”

“Of course,” he replied immediately. “Why should I stop you?” 

“Just thought I should check.” 

“The Clans will cope for a few days, I’m sure. And Devrim would be thrilled to see you. Go.”

“Okay.” She placed her tablet on the floor beside his feet; pretending to care about work was getting too tiring.

“Just promise me you’ll come back.” 

She surmises that he has abandoned his work too when his free hand comes to rest on her hip, the other still occupied with carding through her hair. Was he pretending as much as her, she wondered? 

“This city would fall apart without me, of course I’m coming back.”

He chuckled, continuing to stroke her hair as they fell into an entirely comfortable, and telling silence. 


End file.
